Ever Present Past
by Ayrton
Summary: Post Gauda Prime: concentrates on how Avon fares after he survived the massacre of GP. Sequel to Beyond Redemption. Avon is still a prisoner in the psychiatric prison headed by Carnell, but he plans his escape.
1. Chapter 1

_This is the sequel to a series I started under the title: Beyond Redemption. _

* * *

_...in which Avon is intrigued by one of his guards._

Avon's days were filled with work, meetings with Federation scientists and sessions with the psycho strategic and his staff. Carnell was wearing him out. Mentally as well as physically. He used the prisoner as a guinea pig in a great variety of medical and psychological experiments. The doctor was extra careful with his special project. He always made sure that Avon's mind and body could be sufficiently restored for him to be able to provide Servalan's scientists with the information they required. The preliminary tests on the teleport system had been successful so far and soon they would attempt to transport their first human specimen. Undoubtedly this honour would befall to one of the prison's inmates.

Avon had relinquished control over his life. The psycho strategic had ways of making you do what you did not want to. After the 'patient' had been introduced to a great variety of Carnell's theories on the subject, he had given up the fight. Avon detested drugs and eventually he had to admit that plain old-fashioned torture was actually a very good means of persuasion. Carnell was becoming a master in the art of control and Avon had acquiesced. He'd always thought that an intelligent man could adapt, but he found it increasingly difficult to adapt to living in the madhouse that was now his home.

There was however a constant in Avon's chaotic, disturbing farce of a life. She had been assigned to him a few months ago on the anniversary of his first year in prison. He had no idea what she looked like underneath the standard issue black uniform with compulsory helmet. It was hard to catch a glimpse of her because of the large night-vision goggles that blocked the view to a human face. Avon was sure she was female, though. She was too skinny for a slender built male, although in height she might pass for a man. But Avon could tell by the way she moved that there was a woman underneath the black leather uniform.

Avon had abandoned the need for privacy long ago. He was guarded day and night and Carnell's personal touch to Servalan's orders was that he appointed female guards when the need for privacy was most desired. Within the four walls of his cell. And the women were actually ordered to watch. They would never leave him out of their sight. Not while showering, sleeping or even when he had to relieve himself. Avon knew of course that the surveillance camera's recorded his each and every move, but to have an actual person watching you was something entirely different. He had lost the one thing he always treasured very highly: his privacy and with that, his dignity.

This new guard was different. She was there, but she was a master in being not there. Avon had gotten used to his guards and had learned to ignore them, but the fact that this one actually could be ignored made him suspicious. The others had undoubtedly been given instructions to remind the prisoner of their presence. They would order him about like a child. Deprive him of his sleep with so-called fire drills and if he refused to obey they would activate the knee-lock in his legs to achieve their aims.

The knee-lock was one of Carnell's inventions. Avon remembered the first time he was introduced to it. Vividly. It was shortly after Servalan's departure. She had drugged him and when he awoke several days later he found out that they had tampered with his body. He discovered several scars on various parts of his anatomy. Carnell was there when he regained consciousness, a bundle of clean clothes under his arm.

"Want to get up and get dressed?"

"Why? I'm not going anywhere."

"True, you're not going anywhere..outside this facility. But we have to make the best of it, don't we? You can choose. Lie here flat on your back in isolation all day, force fed and cared for against your will, or you can get some work done."

Carnell had studied Avon's psyche well enough, to know what the tech would chose. There was nothing Avon dreaded more than losing his mental abilities. He knew that he would go insane if he didn't distract himself with work. So he complied, got up and dressed.

When they were about to leave the cell he had vented his surprise about the fact that he was allowed to walk about without restraints.

"Ever heard of a knee-lock?" Carnell turned around, a glimpse of pleasurable anticipation on his face.

"I'm sure you'll enlighten me on the subject."

"It's a means of constraint, developed ages ago, on various worlds actually. I think it is very effective. Of course the original idea was to have a contraption around the knee, that could be activated on demand. The result was that the prisoner was not able to stretch his legs, which is very effective when you want to prevent them from running away. I have developed this concept further and with the medical technology of today, it is no longer necessary to have ugly braces around the leg."

Avon felt a growing feeling of nausea upon listening to Carnell's enthusiastic account. He hadn't asked about the scars on his body. He would find out soon enough.

"What have you done?"

"You have been equipped with...well, maybe a demonstration is in order."

He gave one of the guard's a nod. Avon saw how his gloved hand went for a remote control box that was attached to his belt. The flesh-ripping jolt of pain that subsequently went through his legs was something no one could have prepared him for. He instantly lost all strength in his muscles and fell to the floor like a rag doll, knees bent in a spasm. When the worst pain was over he was still not able to stretch his legs.

"Hence the lack of restraints."

Carnell reached his hand out to Avon. The tech was still trying to catch his breath from the shock of the pain.

"Every guard is equipped with a remote. You're actually the first person we're trying this on."

Avon took his hand and was dragged to his feet. Carnell supported him gently and allowed him the time to regain some feeling in his muscles. It was not so much the pain Avon had to recover from. It was the realisation that a simple push on a button made him vulnerable to the whim of every guard in the complex.

His present guard however had only once subjected him to this kind of torture. On that occasion she acted on a direct order from a superior officer. She never once teased him with it, or threatened to use it like the others would. She was sometimes present when her colleagues pushed the button just to see how he would squirm. It was especially considered fun to toy with the device when the prisoner was brought to the science wing. The guards accompanying him would push the button every other two steps and laughed their heads off at the sight of the 'funny walk'. She was often there, but never participated. She didn't show any compassion for him either, but the fact that she did not let herself be drawn into these twisted games, made her stand out from her colleagues.

Avon had come to regard the watchers in his cell as part of the furniture, but this one intrigued him and he started to analyse her actions. He strongly suspected that she actually tried to give him back his privacy wherever she could. She would sometimes 'accidentally' block the surveillance camera's when he took a shower and he suspected that she avoided looking at him. He couldn't really tell of course, because of the goggles, but he liked to think that she was standing there, facing him while he got dressed and had her eyes closed all the time. He wondered if he could use this humane guard to his advantage. Thus probably signing her death sentence if he ever succeeded.

That evening when she once again placed herself between the prisoner and the camera while he emptied his bladder, he decided to confront her with her behaviour.

"Won't you get into trouble because of this?"

Avon didn't expect her to answer. He would speak to his guards but they were not allowed to speak to him. All he got from them were orders and threats. This particular one had never once spoken to him.

"You don't have to worry about my feelings." Avon explained. "I haven't any left."

He washed his hands and stripped to his briefs and undershirt. He started brushing his teeth, his eyes firmly fixed on the dark goggles. Slowly he approached her. She really was tall. They were practically of the same height, now that he was on bare feet. When he came a little too close for comfort, her hand went for the remote on her belt. Avon hesitated, only a second but then resumed his pace. Very slowly he approached her, holding the toothbrush in his hand like a knife. If she was disturbed by his actions, he had no way of detecting. But then, finally a reaction.

"Stand back.'"

And he did. He'd gotten what he wanted.

Instead of pushing the button, she had spoken to him. A young voice, very young. A girl. Carnell had chosen a girl to guard him. He posed this little of a threat, that the Federation allowed their trainees to guard him. Maybe Carnell's real experiment was to test the troopers in training. He wouldn't put it past him. There was no great risk. The worst that could happen was that they ended up dead. Carnell and his medical staff had made sure that their prize prisoner could never, ever escape from them.

Avon was puzzled. Was the guard just part of one of Carnell's sick experiments or had the psycho strategic just made a big mistake in his eagerness to humiliate the prisoner? The presence of female guards was a means of intimidation. To Avon, a humane guard was a way out.


	2. Chapter 2

_...in which Avon attempts an escape and is in for a surprise._

* * *

Avon had felt wired up all day and found it hard to suppress his anticipation. Tonight he would take his leave. His humane guard would be on duty and he had dismissed his scruples about her unfortunate part in his plan. She would die while helping him to leave his sorry existence. So many people had died in the slipstream of his path, she would be the last notch on his gun.

He had managed to establish a special relationship with her. She allowed him to get close to her without ever once pushing the red button on her remote. He had come within touching distance and nothing had happened. She still didn't speak to him much, but her body language made it clear that she trusted him up to a point.

That evening Avon arrived late from the science wing and the guard that accompanied him, quickly turned him over to the night watch. Avon went through his usual proceedings; undressed, showered and got ready for bed. The lights stayed on as usual, so he slept with the sheets drawn over his head. The nightmares had diminished considerably but he had learned to make do with only a few hours of sleep. The rest of the time he would work on the computer in his room. Tonight however, he would pretend to be ill.

He waited until he was sure that most of the guards had gone off duty, before he curled up into foetal position and began to breathe heavily from under the sheets. She was used to these kinds of noise from the prisoner when he had been in a session with Carnell or when he was dreaming. But he hadn't been to Carnell today and he made sure she knew he was awake.

"Shall I call for a doctor?"

He moaned now, but not too alarmingly. He was actually rather surprised when she did exactly what he had hoped for: she decided to check up on him herself. Avon tensed up, poised for action as soon as she was near enough for him to overpower her. He could sense that she was almost next to his bed now. When he was just about to leap up and grab her he felt the cold steel of a knife on his neck and froze. For an instant he could not breathe. His guards didn't carry any weapons. The remote for his knee-lock sufficed.

"I know what you're trying to do, Avon, and you can stop now."

She was bending over him, whispering in his ear so the surveillance camera's wouldn't pick up on her words nor her actions.

"If you want out, you just stay in your bed and sleep like a good boy. Otherwise I'll call this in and I'm sure Carnell will find an appropriate way to punish you. Then you and I can say our farewells, is that what you want?"

Avon closed his eyes in answer to that. His mind was trying to process what just had happened while she contacted the control room to report that everything was all right. None of the guards had ever called him by his real name and now this one, the one that never spoke at all, had used it as if he were an old friend. She had anticipated his plans. She had once again chosen not to use the remote. And the knife. She wore a knife on duty while this was strictly forbidden.

Avon turned on his other side to face her. She had resumed her usual position at the door and this time he was absolutely certain that she was watching him through the shaded glass of the goggles. No expression on the part of the face that was exposed. As if nothing had happened. As if she hadn't just destroyed the plan he had been brooding on for weeks. The tech had underestimated the girl. She'd read him better then he thought she would. Or was she just a pawn in one of Carnell's games? He kept staring at her until suddenly, the lights went out...and the nightmare began.

He hadn't been ready for the excruciating pain in his legs and screamed out. Then her hands were on him; his mouth was forced open and something was shoved between his teeth before his jaws clenched shut around it in a spasm of pain. He was then lifted up from his bed and thrown over a shoulder. Despite his agony, he registered a fast walk through a pitch black corridor. They came to a halt when the alarms began to sound and they were suddenly bathing in a blinking red light. He was virtually dumped on the floor. Through a haze of pain he saw his guard fiddling with a hatch that gave entrance to the service tunnels. She opened it and Avon was lifted up and shoved inside. The guard followed him in and closed the hatch. She reached for his hand, closed his fingers around a small object.

"Eat up!"

She removed the wooden stick that prevented him from accidentally biting his tongue. She'd made sure that there would be no trace of blood for their pursuers to follow.

Avon was in too much pain to think straight and just obeyed her in the hope she had given him a painkiller. He was still trying to swallow the pill through his dry throat when she had already taken hold of him again and began to drag him through the service tunnel.

The sound of the alarm inside the tunnel was deafening. The speaker system was partly installed in the air vent system and it battered their eardrums. It provided good cover, though. They didn't have to move quietly. The noise masked the cries of agony of the man who was forcefully dragged through the narrow corridors. His abductor could not afford to be careful with her load. They had to move fast and Avon was of no use at all. The blackout had triggered the knee-lock automatically and he was unable to use his legs in order to make their journey a little easier. They had to rely completely on the girl's strength.

Avon estimated that their hell-ride came to an end after at least an hour. He had been dragged through countless tunnels and carried through a sewer, which led to another series of tunnels. They had left the irritating noise of the alarms behind them. When they arrived at their destination, Avon could hear the whaling sound in the distance. They were probably still in the prison complex, but in a remote wing of the building.

"Now what?" Avon asked the panting creature that had to be somewhere in front of him. He couldn't see a thing in the dark and could only imagine how worn out she had to be. He had lost weight in prison, but it took a lot of stamina and strength to carry an adult man and drag a dead weight through the tunnels like she did. When the heavy breathing had died down a bit he repeated the question.

"We wait." she said. "How are your legs?"

"I'll manage."

The pill had done its job the first hour, but he felt the pain increase. The fact that his adrenaline level was sky high, probably did wonders for the amount of torture he could endure.

Suddenly the alarms seized. The sound of it still lingered in their ears, but Avon was startled when another sound, very near him, cut through the silence of their shelter. A hatch lock clicked and a ventilation shutter was opened on the other side of the wall. A bright light blinded him. When his eyes had adjusted, his guard had already climbed out and was greeted by a tall sturdy man, dressed in the uniform of a Federation space captain. They took hold of Avon's arms and dragged his mangled body out of the tunnel. He couldn't help gasping with pain.

"What's wrong with him?" The captain asked while taking the other man's weight on his shoulder.

"He can't walk. We need to put him somewhere flat."

When the man carried him to a suitable place, Avon took in his surroundings. He had already noticed the freezing cold in the room from which he was insufficiently protected in just his underwear. They had arrived in the prison mortuary. He saw the naked, undernourished bodies of prisoners in various states of abuse on countless slabs, neatly placed in a row. From experience he knew that they had not only been subjected to physical abuse.

The captain found an empty slab and carefully lowered Avon on his back. The smell of death in combination with the sudden chill of cold metal on his bare skin and the throbbing pain in his legs made him swallow heavily a few times to fight off the nausea.

"Strap him up." the girl said and threw the belt she'd removed from her uniform over to the captain. When she noticed Avon's alarmed look she explained, while her helper secured Avon's upper body to the slab.

"I'll have to operate on your legs."

Avon tried to ignore the thrust of panic at the thought of an operation. He swallowed his words of protest and watched her retrieve a scalpel from the instrument table. She cleaned it by pouring disinfectant fluid over it.

"We have to get rid of the electronics." she explained superfluously. "I wasn't able to get my hands on more painkillers and soon you need to be _really_ quiet for a while. The pain will come back and increase tenfold."

She took off the helmet and goggles. After all these months, he was finally awarded a look at his humane guard. He had trouble focussing through the pain and sweat that kept trickling into his eyes, but he saw that she was indeed very young. Spiky blond hair and a dirty face gave her a boyish look, the bright blue eyes with the long black lashes defied that feature. He was surprised to see her shy away from his inquisitive look as if by revealing her face, she had exposed herself to him completely. Avon vaguely remembered how that felt. It had been so long since he'd felt any genuine feelings.

The sudden waves of anguish shook him back to reality. She was right. The pain was increasing. She took off her gloves and began to clean her hands with the disinfectant.

"Have you done this before?"

There was an ominous silence which confirmed what he already suspected.

"Just lie still."

She took hold of the scalpel, climbed on the slab and gently lowered herself on his lap. She straddled him and restrained his thighs with her knees.

"Hold his legs." Her voice was shaky now. "Keep him as still as possible."

The captain offered Avon the familiar wooden stick, before he took hold of the patient's ankles.

Avon closed his eyes and bit hard when the first incision was made.


	3. Chapter 3

_...in which Avon thinks about Cally while he rests in peace and his new companion once again surprises him._

* * *

For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Avon was completely alone. If you didn't count the corpse on top of him. Only a thin layer of sheets separated him from the cold lump of flesh. The poor unfortunate could not have weighed more than 80 pounds when she had drawn her last breath. Avon had not embraced the idea of sharing the close confinement of a coffin with a dead body with great enthusiasm, but he'd complied. He was surprised that they'd managed to get this far and curiosity had gotten the better of him. _He _didn't have much to lose. The stakes were considerably higher for his travel companions. The captain would take them through Federation territory with his supply freighter. Hopefully the leaded coffins would fool the security scanners into believing that there was just the pilot on board.

Avon strongly suspected that the captain of the supplier had no idea about the identity of the male passenger he was smuggling out. From the way she treated him, Avon understood that the girl was in charge. He couldn't help admiring her for the plan so far. The mystery of his humane guard had only increased and somewhere in the back of his mind, a vague memory was triggered. There was something familiar about her and he'd searched the corners of his brain. Digging deep into this other life that had once been his. A futile effort. There had been too many drastic events in the past years of his life and the fact that Carnell had been prodding around in his psyche didn't do much for his memory either. Avon often had trouble distinguishing real memories from the ones the doctor had tried to implant. In nocturnal session in his cell he was submitted to Carnell's newly developed methods on the subject. Sometimes Avon actually wondered if his adventurous life on board Liberator and Scorpio had only been a figment of the psycho-strategic's imagination.

Initially, Avon enjoyed the quiet in his dark, claustrophobic hide-out. It was a state he had often longed for in the past year, but soon he found that he couldn't stop the memories from invading his mind. He thought of Cally. How she must have felt when she died. Alone and silent. Precisely the way the Auron's wished their worst enemies would die. He'd searched for her among the rubble. He'd called out to her. With the little strength she had left she'd managed to send him a thought. Her farewell message had unsettled him more than he would ever admit. When he'd found her it was already too late. He remembered how alive she felt when he had taken her in his arms and kissed her cheek. Cowardice had prevented him from letting her get close to him. Shear fear of not being able to handle another loss. Not after Anna. Not after Blake. He had been right. In that dark, horrible grave, when he was gently rocking her dead body in his arms, something inside him died while the world collapsed around him. _I have always loved you. _The words she'd sent to his mind would have an echo so powerful, that he could still hear it.

A sound outside the coffin startled him. Someone was opening the lid. He took a deep breath and lay absolutely still below his stiff companion.

"We've passed the last checkpoint."

It was the girl. She helped him up from underneath the dead woman and he scrambled out. Avon still hurt from the operation, but that was nothing compared to the pain caused by the knee-lock. She supported him until she was sure his legs would carry his weight. The captain entered the cargo deck, trailing along two supply boxes.

"The shuttle is ready and fuelled up." he said. "It'll take you wherever you want to go within 10.000 spacials."

"Thanks." she said while helping Avon close the lid on his silent travel companion.

"Don't thank me, Rhi. Pay up."

There was an edge of excitement in his voice now and a closer look at him told Avon that he had a weapon in the belt underneath his jacket. His right hand was resting on it. The girl -Rhi as he'd called her- didn't seem concerned. Avon was sure she was aware of the threat, but she did not appear to be surprised. She turned around to the eager captain, zipped open her uniform and unbuckled a money belt from underneath. From the size of it, it probably contained enough credits to last a lifetime in reasonable comfort. The captain accepted it cautiously and after a quick inspection of the contents he addressed the girl again.

"And the rest." he demanded. "Surely you haven't forgotten about the second part of our agreement?"

"I keep my promises." Rhi said reassuringly and turned to Avon, producing a pair of handcuffs from her pocket. Without another word she chained him to one of the coffin handles. He was still a prisoner then. Why wasn't he surprised? She avoided looking at him while taking off the top half of her overall, revealing a sweaty black T-shirt.

"Just don't take all day."

The captain grinned and nodded in the direction of her prisoner.

"You want him to watch? Turns you on, right?"

Rhi regarded Avon with a blank expression on her face. Somehow he felt that she was still completely in control of the situation.

"I'm sure you'll have the good grace to turn around."

The captain's bony fingers were already grabbing her from behind, greedy hands caressing her breasts. Avon's eyes held hers for a moment in an effort to determine what she expected of him, but obviously she only waited for him to give them a little privacy.

He turned around but other senses still had to witness the sexual act that was taking place right behind his back. He was a bit surprised that the man's enthusiastic comments and their moans of pleasure unleashed unexpected reactions in his own body. He closed his eyes and actually contemplated conjuring up the awful nightmares he'd been having about Blake's death. When he heard the guttural grunt, followed by a loud thud, he understood that this would not be necessary.

Slowly he turned around. She zipped up her uniform and belted the stun gun from the unconscious man who lay slumped at her feet. He was out cold. Quickly she released Avon from the coffin only to cuff his hands behind his back again. After loading up the two supply boxes on her shoulders, she gave him a nod.

"The shuttle's that way."

"You'll leave him the money?"

An amount like that would tempt even a rich man. Avon briefly wondered what had happened to the nice sum he and Vila had stashed away on a secret bank account.

"I'm not a thief." She looked at him sharply. "I keep my end of a deal."

"Somehow I suspect that your friend would not agree with you on that."

For the first time he noticed a slight irritation in her manner.

"Would you feel better if I left him a few extra credits so he can enjoy himself in Space City?"

He got the message. Mind your own business.

"Start walking."


	4. Chapter 4

_...in which the arrival of unexpected visitors on Gauda Prime is announced_

* * *

"She's back."

Doctor Beauvy looked up from her computer when Kilmonis popped his head around the corner of her hut. She knew instantly what he was talking about.

"And she not alone."

Emma hit the save-button to store her work on the hard drive and leaned back in her comfortable chair. That announcement concluded work for today. Her ageing eyes found it hard enough to concentrate on the bright screen in front of her but after this, she would not be able to bring herself to return to her duties.

"Are you sure?"

"My scouts were pretty certain. They will reach the camp at midday tomorrow."

A sense of dread took possession of her. She had every reason to fear that the arrival of this unexpected guest could destroy all that had been built up in the past year. They had managed to restore the damage caused by the massacre. It had left the rebels in a state of stasis. Slowly they had recovered and now their numbers were growing. Mainly because word about the mysterious recovery of the fatally wounded rebel-leader was spread among the natives of Gauda Prime. The farmers and forest people all knew of the Legend. Like Kilmonis they had grown up with the stories. Legend or not, the fact that Blake had made such a miraculous recovery had brought their cause some very valuable and loyal followers. And more were coming, from other worlds now. Outcasts, dissidents, freedom fighters and fortune seekers, but many useful people among them.

The girl had arrived in the early spring. A thin youth, with innocent bright blue eyes, her manner withdrawn and shy. The personification of the fact that looks could be deceiving. Her elegant body harboured a strength and resilience that could match any of Kilmonis' soldiers. She was a mercenary that went by the name of Rhi and she had managed to built up a considerable reputation. The daring attack on the pharmaceutical factory on Gull-5 was one of her undertakings. Rumour had it that she was also the one who had managed to smuggle out an important Nanobotics expert from a high-risk prison facility on Earth. They had heard about her in the camp but it was hard to believe that such skill and cunning could be concealed inside a girl so young. She had learned to make good use of her vulnerable appearance. It was clear that she shamelessly exploited the fact that people mistook her for an innocent schoolgirl instead of the skilled professional she actually was. And she had set her mind on abducting the notorious Kerr Avon out of Federation custody. Her heart clearly did not beat for the Revolution. She was in it for the large sum of credits that had been put up as a reward.

The rumours about the whereabouts of the man who shot Roj Blake were many. He was sighted on various worlds. As a free man, as a slave, or a prisoner, but the rumours about Cendus had been more than persistent. Especially after reports that a Federation class-A space ship had docked in their ports shortly after the massacre. For many a clear indication of Servalan's presence. Why would she be interested in this barren world, where the Federation sent their dissidents? To Emma this was an easy question. She was certain that Servalan's visit there could be explained by the fact that one of her closest allies and friends was running the main prison facility. He was the Federation's best psycho-strategic and in her lust for power the woman would naturally consult him.

Emma didn't believe that Kerr Avon had survived. She was convinced that the Federation was behind the rumours about scientists being shipped off to Cendus. They were masters in setting up elaborate traps to lure rebels in search for the assassin. Emma sighed at the thought of all the good men that had failed in their attempts to find the man. She knew of at least two attempted raids on the prison that had ended in disaster.

Kilmonis' voice broke her thoughts.

"You'll have to say goodbye to your little helper." he said with a nod at the window.

Emma peered outside where a young girl played chess with her assistant, Pirol. They were sitting in their regular spot under the big oak tree opposite her hut. From the look on Pirol's face he was losing again.

The child, Mare, had been part of the deal. Rhi had made the journey to Gauda Prime to be able to personally deal with Blake's people in order to secure the safety of the child. They would see to it that she was cared for while her sister collected -her exact words- Avon. Mare had become the doctor's house guest and helped out wherever she could. As it turned out she was very useful and bright.

The doctor spoke as little as possible about Rhi's absence and the child asked no question. Emma was convinced that a mercenary with a reputation like Rhi would either come back with her capture or never come back at all. Silently she'd already decided which it would be. Apparently she had been mistaken.

Emma chuckled when she saw how a puzzled Pirol shook hands with the little girl. On his face a look of hardly contained bewilderment about the fact that the girl had beaten him so quickly this time. She ran off and joined the soldier who was on his way to feed the horses.

"Pirol will be sorry to see her go."

"Are you sure?" Kilmonis asked in surprise. "It must be very frustrating for a grown man to keep losing games from a six year old."

She looked up at him. Kilmonis was not a very sociable man, yet he kept lingering in the doorway. She scrutinized him for a moment before it dawned on her.

"You haven't told _him_ yet, have you?""

Kilmonis nodded; the look he gave Emma told her the reason of his visit.

"Where is he?"

"He's in the mess, greeting the new arrivals from the prison-transport we raided yesterday."

"I'll go and see him when he's back in his hut."

Kilmonis was clearly grateful about her willingness to relieve him of the role as bearer of good tidings. Blake's second in command was a great warrior, but he was a simple, straight-forward man when it came to matters of the heart. The complicated relationship between Blake and Avon made him feel distinctly uncomfortable. The fact that Blake had been shot by the man he called his friend was something he would never understand in a million years. Therefore he truly did not know if these _were_ good tidings for the rebel-leader. Neither did Emma for that matter.


	5. Chapter 5

_...death and the computer tech_

* * *

He opened his eyes to an unfamiliar sight; the bright moon in a star-pocked sky above him. It was an unusually soft and warm autumn night. The whispering sound of the leaves from the trees surrounding them had made him go off into a doze. His back had woken him up. Avon was not used to sleeping in the outdoors nor to riding on horseback. His request for breaks had been numerous and Rhi very lenient, but his muscles were protesting every step of the way.

He turned on his other side, facing the girl who was sleeping peacefully. The soft breeze played with a strand of her hair, gently tickling her eyebrow. She was a few feet away from her prisoner, sound asleep near the dying campfire. Avon was well secured to a birch tree and did not cause any threat, but for her to really sleep like this surprised him. If anything, the girl was a professional. She was fair to her prisoner; treated him with respect but her great strength was that she foresaw every trick he thought of. Every opportunity to escape was nipped in the bud, by constantly being one step ahead of him.

A slight movement beside her caught his attention. A large shape broke away from the dark behind her. A wolf. Avon watched in fascination how the animal awarded him a casual glance and then moved to sit beside the girl. It did not behave threateningly. Just sat there as if on guard. Another wolf appeared, followed by a larger shape, going upright. A man in a long black cape. The hooded figure patted the animal's back. He ignored the girl completely. She seemed to be in an unusually deep sleep. Avon had never seen her likes this. Not in the shuttle nor on their four day journey on this green planet. She was like a dolphin, always one half of the brain alert.

Slowly the stranger made his way towards Avon. In the pale moonlight, he saw the blinking of metal from underneath his cape. The rope with which his handcuffs were secured to the tree was cut. Avon looked up trying to catch a glimpse of a face underneath the dark hood. But there was just an anonymous dark spot. It didn't matter really. Faces were not important now. Words were not necessary. Avon instinctively knew what was to come. He had waited so long for this moment that he felt a sense of camaraderie with the stranger.

He rose carefully so as not to alarm the wolves, or the girl for that matter and moved towards the second wolf who took the lead. Not a word was spoken when he was led away from the camp. They slowly walked deeper into the woods, until they reached a clearing and he felt a hand on his shoulder, halting him. An almost tentative touch, gently forcing him down to his knees.

Time slowed. It was as if he slowly slipped away into oblivion. Avon was acutely aware of everything around him. The light breeze on his skin, a caress on his cheeks, sending shudders through his spine. The soft bed of moss and leaves that welcomed him as he sank his knees into it. The slow beat of his heart thudding in his ears. A complete feeling of peace washed over him when he realised that this was the end. Finally.

He was also acutely aware of the presence behind him. One hand still on his shoulder, a firm grip now. Avon recognized the sound of metal on metal when the sword was taken out of its sheath. The wolf moved to sit in front of him. He looked him in the eye. Yellow eyes scrutinizing him, glistening in the moonlight, calmly waiting for the inevitable. He saw the metal flickering beside him, closed his eyes and bowed down his head.

All sound had ceised to exist. He was trapped inside a vacuum of silence. The night birds refused to sing their song and the evening breeze, that gently made the dry leaves rattle stopped playing its game. As if this moment could only be honoured by total silence. A feeling of elation and inner peace invaded every sinew of Avon's body. He was ready. Could not face that last little surprise that Carnell had implanted. Wanted it to finally happen. The moment he had longed for so long. His breathing slowed down. He waited. _Alone and silent_.

Not quite as alone as Cally had been. And not silent either. The sound of heavy breathing behind him caught his attention. Then he noticed how the hand had increased its hold on him. Now virtually clenching at his shoulder, fleetingly reminding him of the strong grip of someone from his past, physically demanding attention when he was trying to get his point across.

Avon felt the tension inside the other through that hand. Felt the sweat penetrate his shirt, as a tepid piece of cloth on his skin. It rubbed off on him. A sudden inexplicable panic took hold of him. His heartbeat was throbbing in his throat, body temperature rocketed, muscles tensed up and he couldn't get his breathing under control. He was hyperventilating. Other sounds returned as well; the birds, the wind and the animals of the night, as if someone had hit the play-button of the remote to blissfully set free the world that was put on hold.

Avon opened his eyes. The wolf was still in its spot, but on all fours now. He moved away and disappeared in the dark. The hand was gone. Avon was too numb to see where his executioner had gone. He heard the crunching of leaves in the distance, footsteps approaching fast. Rhi appeared, a little out of breath, holding a heat sensor in one hand, a gun in the other. Her face tense and confused at the way she found her prisoner, kneeling down in the small clearing with not another soul around. One look at Avon told her that something significant had happened. His face glistening with perspiration in the bright light of the moon, a dazed look in his eyes when he glanced up at her. She took his arm.

"Come on."

She helped him to his feet and made him turn around to check the handcuffs. His heart began to hammer at the sight that was presented to him. He had not really taken in his surroundings before. Now he was directly facing the magnificent oak tree, thick and scruffy. Its bark seemed to be alive within the shadow of its branches. He had seen that tree countless times. It had been haunting him for months in his nightmares. It was here where he had seen Blake die a horrible death.

"We're on Gauda Prime." he managed in a whisper.

"Of course." Rhi checked her heat sensor again to make sure that it only registered the two signals. Whoever had taken her prisoner had made himself scarce very quickly.

"I'm taking you to Blake. He pays good money to get you back."

When he turned around to face her she added out of genuine curiosity, "Tell me, am I taking you to your executioner or to your friend?"

There was a long tense silence. His eyes grew even darker and when he answered, something cold seemed to grip her spine.

"Roj Blake is dead. I shot him."

In those black eyes she saw that he had absolutely no doubt about that. It would be no use arguing that she had spoken to the man himself. Therefore she just shrugged and pushed him in the direction of their camp.

"Dead or alive. As long as he pays me, I don't really care what state he's in." Her voice was as matter-of-fact as ever, but through his own confusion Avon could detect a thread of...something.

They made their way back to the camp but for the remainder of the night, neither of them was able to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

_...in which old friends meet_

* * *

The next day they arrived in the rebel camp. Cuffed and blindfolded Avon managed a whole morning on horseback, with Rhi behind him in the saddle making sure that the horse progressed slowly. Avon had mocked the use of the blindfold. As if she actually expected he would live to see another day once she'd delivered her capture.

To his surprise he actually enjoyed the blind ride. Without the use of his eyes, Gauda Prime was a true cacophony of sound. What he heard from deep inside the dense forests was truly wonderful. Birds sang the most beautiful songs, melodious outburst of creatures he couldn't place were all around them. The slow rhythm of the hooves posing as a percussionist accompanying this orchestra of nature. The magnificent thundering of a waterfall and always, the whisper of the wind in the trees, a constant escort on their journey. It put everything into perspective. Made him realize that they were just tiny specs of dust in a giant universe.

When the symphony of the forest slowly died down and was replaced by sounds more familiar to him, he knew they were coming to the end of their journey. He could hear voices, children even, domestic animals and horses. As they came nearer, the voices stilled one by one until he could only make out the occasional whisper.

Rhi dismounted and helped him down. Avon didn't need his eye-sight to know that a small crowd gathered around them. He could sense the girl's tension when she stood close to him, motionless for a moment. Her fingers lightly grazed against his arm before she gently pushed him forward. They walked a short distance and then came to a halt.

Rhi released her hold on him and stepped away. Avon felt utterly vulnerable, being blind, with his hands shackled behind his back. He could almost smell the hostility around him and wouldn't be surprised if someone just attacked him. Then even the whispering seized. The silence weighed heavy on him, a stifling pressure on his chest. It was almost unbearable to just stand there and wait, not knowing what was going to happen.

The hand on his shoulder startled him. Bigger than the girl's and yet so familiar that Avon held his breath. He felt the nearness of someone right in front of him. Larger than himself, radiating warmth. His blindfold was removed. Avon had his eyes closed underneath and for a split second he pondered if he should actually open them to take in what his mind had already depicted before him. Blake.

He stood very close to Avon. Deliberately invading the private space he knew the other man treasured so dearly. Before he opened his eyes, Avon was absolutely certain that this was the person he spent two years sailing the universe with. In his body he recognised the reaction he would always get when confronted with the charisma that surrounded the man like a halo. An indeterminate combination of resentment and admiration that confused him to this date.

"Hello, Avon."

The distinct deep voice. Avon deliberately turned his head sideways to open his eyes, squinting against the bright sun. He stood in the centre of a small crowd of people, who eyed him as if he was personally responsible for killing their pet dog. Their animosity was almost tangible in the air. Each man had a weapon within reach, ready to use it if Avon would make a false move towards their leader. Then he could no longer contain his curiosity and slowly ran his eyes over the man before him. Common sense kept telling him that this was not possible. But in his heart there was no doubt. This was unmistakably Roj Blake. Dressed in plain brown farmer's clothes, that much resembled Avon's own attire. His skin tanned like a woodsman's, making the pinkish scar beside his left eye even more pronounced. His mellow brown eyes mirrored Avon's scrutiny. It was him. In the flesh. Risen from the dead. They regarded each other in silence for a moment until Avon was sure that he could inject the right tone of sarcasm in his voice.

"And what a warm welcome it is."

As ever cynical, Blake thought. Avon looked thinner and tired but his eyes stood calm. When thinking of Avon nowadays, Blake could not forget the anguish and the hurt in the man's eyes when they last met. He was glad to see that he had relapsed into his usual stoic manner as a reaction to the blood lust in the men surrounding them. Just like old times. His own special defence against fear.

"They think you are my assassin."

"Well, aren't I?"

"They would like me to kill you right here on the spot." Blake spoke calmly, his eyes never leaving Avon's.

"Why don't you?" There was a challenging glance in his eyes, a little too eager. "That's the whole point of my being here, isn't it?"

"I know you'll do everything to convince them I should do exactly that, but not just yet. I have other plans for you."

"Really?" Again he feigned indifference, but Blake didn't fail to notice a hint of insecurity in his voice. "Since when did I become your property?"

"Since the moment you shot me dead."

That hurt. He saw it in those dark eyes. It was meant to hurt. Blake felt the old antagonism fully return like a fit of bad temper. He'd thought himself past revenge. Had dealt with it during the months of his recovery. Thought he'd left his feelings of anger and revenge behind. But now that he was dealing with his nemesis in person, those beliefs snapped like a match between his fingers. He regarded the other closely in search for a spark of the old Avon he liked to remember. A spark of the compassion he had clearly felt from this complicated man.

"I almost died, Avon."

"That was the idea."

He searched his eyes but there was no remorse there. No pain about what he'd done.

"Why couldn't you trust me? Why, Avon?"

"Does it matter? What's done is done. Now get on with it and finish what you couldn't finish last night."

Blake flinched at those words and Avon knew his guess was right. He surveyed the crowd of warriors that surrounded them.

"I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding a suitable volunteer." When Blake didn't speak he added, "Someone to do it for you," and gave him a complacent smile when he saw that last remark hit home.

"I'm not letting you off that easy." said Blake.

He felt the anger boil to the surface. A familiar feeling he had done without for a long time. He valued Avon more than anyone he had ever met since. But never had he come across anyone who brought about the deep desire in him, to hit the other in the face from time to time. He was surprised how easily he returned to this old habit of taking a deep breath in an effort to contain his anger before addressing the computer tech again.

"What did you do all this time in Servalan's care?"

"I taught her how to build a Liberator-type space ship with teleport capability."

"And ORAC?"

Avon was taken aback but tried -and failed- not to show it.

"What about ORAC?"

He felt Blake's shrewd gaze appraising him.

"You didn't give her ORAC, yet, did you?"

"ORAC was destroyed in the crash."

Avon's blank face amused Blake. He had seen that look too many times in the past. A bright smile appeared around his lips and his eyes began to twinkle.

"You're lying, Avon. You never were a good liar."

"And you were always a frightfully bad judge of character."

"My men would love to torture you a bit for what you've done." Blake continued conversationally. "I'm sure I can give them what they want under the pretence of a thorough interrogation."

Avon looked up, took him in head to foot and finally raised half a smile.

"Well, well, so you took some lessons in ruthlessness, I see. Good for you. You were sorely lacking in that department. I always thought anyway."

Suddenly he moved forward, taking Blake completely by surprise. It was purely an automatic reaction that he caught Avon in his arms. The sudden clutter and consternation around them confused him for a second until he realised what it meant.

"Easy!" he warned quickly, secretly thanking Kilmonis that he hadn't trained his men to be too trigger happy. At least a dozen guns were aimed their way, behind them the tense faces of his followers fully intend on shooting. "It's okay!"

Avon was in pain. Blake's strong arms had prevented him from falling face first in the dirt. He felt the tension in the other man, trying to fight off the anguish. Their eyes met and they both realised that at that moment they shared the same dejavu. Only the roles were reversed back then.

Rhi cautiously made her way through the spectators, very aware of the tense situation.

"It happens sometimes." she explained calmly. "It's some kind of cramp."

She slid her hand around Avon's waist and Blake released him. Slowly the pain seemed to disappear and he straightened up. When she was sure he was capable of standing on his own, Rhi let go of him. Blake concluded that she was obviously aware of Avon's aversion to physical contact. He felt his curiosity grow.

"He needs medical care."

There was a streak of loyalty in her voice. Blake wondered where that came from. He had heard about this strange effect of understanding, loyalty even, from hostages for their abductors, but between Avon and the girl, the opposite seemed to be the case. Unusual, considering her reputation. He broke off his train of thought when he saw that Avon bit his lip in pain. He signalled his men to put away their weapons and called Kilmonis over.

"Take him to doctor Beauvy."

Kilmonis didn't like the way that sounded. Blake's voice was full of concern. The general did not understand these feelings of compassion for the assasin. And neither did his men and that was something that worried him the most.

"Watch him closely, Stewart, he might seem weak, but the Avon I know is very resourceful."

Was that a glimpse of admiration in the man's eyes? Kilmonis chose to ignore it.

"We'll interrogate him when he's been at the doctor's." He shifted his eyes to Avon who was already flanked by two of Kilmonis's best men. "I want ORAC. He knows where it is."

Then he dismissed the general and the crowd dispersed when Avon was marched off. Blake watched them all the way until they turned the corner and fleetingly wondered how far he would go to achieve his aim. ORAC was important in their fight against the Federation. Would he be willing to resort to their methods in order to find out where Avon had hidden the super computer?


	7. Chapter 7

_... in which the ever present past presents itself_

* * *

Blake lingered a little in the square to witness the happy reunion between Rhi and her little sister, but his mind kept wandering. He had briefly joined in the hearty congratulations on her capture, but remained in the background. Avon's return effected him deeply. He had seen the black void in his look when the guards took him away and wondered what those eyes had seen in all those years they had been apart.

The rebel leader quietly moved away from the cheerful group. He needed to be alone for a moment to gather his thoughts. True, he had always hoped that some day a clever bounty hunter would deliver Avon, but now that it had really happened he was somewhat at a loss. He had his position to consider and this required of him to try the man, which would ultimately result in his execution. That's what every rebel in the camp would demand. Justice should prevail but Blake knew that he would never get over it. He needed a way around this course of events and for now he had found it in ORAC.

When he started towards his cabin, Blake felt her eyes burn in his back and turned around.

"Is there something you want?"

As soon as he'd asked the question he realized why Rhi was following him. She was a bounty hunter. Of course she wanted something. The reward. But he was surprised at her answer.

"It just seems a bit odd to have saved a man from the clutches of the Federation only to put him in the same position here."

"I'm sorry if you feel that way. But you must have known that his life wouldn't be worth a penny here."

"I know, I just thought that... I delivered him to you because I thought that might prevent an execution."

Now there was a real surprise. A professional bounty hunter who cared about her catch? With a gesture he invited her to walk with him. After she'd cast a glance at her sister, who was assisting one of the soldier leading the horse to the stables, she accompanied him.

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"He was your friend."

"Avon and I were never friends."

"Why did he keep searching for you all these years? And why did you put an enormous reward on his head which expires the moment he dies?"

No one had ever questioned that condition before. There seemed to be a lot more to this perceptive girl than she was willing to show. He gave her a scrutinous look.

"Why does it concern you what happens to him?"

"He doesn't deserve to go through what he went through on Cendus once again."

"I guess the rumours about him living a life of luxury were not true then."

"I was his guard. He was a prisoner...no actually he was less than that. He didn't exist. They robbed him of everything. Of his name, his privacy, he didn't even have control over his own body anymore. I have no love for the man, but if anything he deserves a quick death or his freedom."

"That's not your choice. You'll get paid any which way."

"I know. I'm just a little surprised about your willingness to just cast aside all the good Kerr Avon has has done for your cause. Have you forgotten how he risked his life when he disarmed the bomb on Albion? Saved a whole planet, didn't he?"

Blake regarded her in surprise. He himself had never understood Avon's rare fit of heroism. He always suspected that the man who had been down there with him, was somehow responsible for this extraordinary act of self-sacrifice. Maybe Del Grant hadn't given him any choice; forced him to stay and finish the job. Or maybe Grant had somehow triggered a sensitive streak in this selfish man. It was so unlike Avon to risk his life for complete strangers.

"And from what I understand, it was Avon who engaged the Andromedans in their first battle, held them off for as long as he could."

"For someone who doesn't care about the Cause, you sure know a lot about it."

"Good research keeps me alive."

"Apparently."

"You should know that Avon shall try to antagonize the guards."

Blake chuckled.

"That feature is embedded in the man's DNA. Tell me something I don't know yet."

"He seeks confrontation because he seeks death."

"You were his guard. Did he antagonize you?"

"He nearly succeeded in getting himself beaten to death."

One look at her and he knew that was all the answer he would get. She would only volunteer information about her role as Avon's guard if it was relevant to achieving her aims. Which was helping Avon apparently.

"He'll never tell you where this ORAC is because that's his only way out. He probably hopes that some interrogator will strike too hard one day."

Blake put one hand up in acknowledgement when they had arrived at his hut.

"All right, I understand what you're trying to say. Avon will seize every opportunity to get himself killed, but..." he hesitated, then took her arm and led her inside.

There within the four walls of the small cabin, he needed to confide in her. A stranger, but she was there and he needed to finally speak to someone about this. Kilmonis would never understand. Emma Beauvy would probe too much in order to want to understand. Therefore he'd always kept his thoughts on the subject of Kerr Avon rather to himself, but now he needed to get it off his chest.

"I want him to live."

Rhi was a bit taken aback by the sudden emotion in his voice and the intense need in his eyes. He must have felt her surprise, because he looked away. He failed to keep his voice level when he continued, angry at first.

"Damn the man! Why do you think I left the Liberator after Andromeda. I wanted them to live. I wanted _him_ to live. I set him free."

He suddenly felt very tired. He sank down in a chair and invited Rhi to do the same. She saw the pain in the man's eyes and knew that this was probably one of the hardest thing Roj Blake had ever done in his life. Setting his crew free.

"I cannot just...let him go. Not after what he's done. My ...status doesn't allow it. And I'll never be able to convince my men that he should stay with us, as a free man."

"The way I see it, he's probably not interested in staying with you. He is dead set on getting himself killed."

"Why? What happened in that prison?"

"It is not for me to tell you that and I don't know the half of it, but I'm sure it has something to do with one of Carnell's experiments."

"So what you're saying is, I might as well give up trying?"

"I'm saying, there might be another way to change his mind." Rhi said and got up.

She went out for a moment and Blake was surprised to see her return in the company of her sister. The girl was apprehensive and held Rhi's hand firmly. Blake didn't exactly look like the friendly neighbour next door in the shady light in the little cabin. The scar on his face seemed to have a life of its own and even to this child it was obvious that this was not a happy man.

"This is Mare."

Blake looked at her confused. He had been introduced to the girl when Rhi had brought her to the camp all those months ago. Why the formal introduction now? How could a six year old be a solution to their predicament?

"Hello, Mare. " He said in the nicest voice he could conjure up. It had been a long time since he had spoken to a child.

"Hello, Blake." The child seemed to be more at ease and held out her hand to shake his. He took it and never let go when Rhi explained.

"Mare is the daughter of Anna Grant and Kerr Avon."


	8. Chapter 8

Note: I really had a hard time with this chapter. Past present and future to consider. Who knew what and when and why? And more important: who _didn't_ know what and when and why? The writers of B7 weren't all that consistent in their scripts about the Anna Grant/Sula character. They left us with more questions than answers. Anyway I've probably forgotten a very significant detail that's staring everyone in the face, but I felt I couldn't postpone this any longer. People have been urging me to write the next chapter, so her goes.

O, and thanks to glenavon for the idea about Mare's name!

* * *

_......................................in which identities are revealed and suspicions grow._

"Can I have my hand back please?"

Blake found that he couldn't keep himself from staring at the innocent young face before him. The big brown eyes reflected the setting sun that cast its last shimmer through the window of his hut. They hypnotized him, seemed to want to burn a mark straight into his heart.

_Kerr Avon's daughter. Who would have thought? _

When the girl shifted uncomfortably, he let go of her hand and tore his eyes away from her. He only vaguely registered Rhi's words. Something about her feeling responsible for the child, even though they were not sisters.

"Avon never told us of a child."

"He wouldn't have." Rhi said. "He didn't know....d_oesn't _know"

"I was raised in the house of Chesku." the girl explained. " My mother went back to him shortly after the arrest. Avon never contacted her again. Not even when he was safely on board that rebel spaceship with you."

Blake regarded her, wondering exactly how much Anna Grant had told her loved ones about that shady part of her life. Her daughter was obviously unaware of the fact that Avon was convinced that Anna had died under Federation torture. It puzzled him that Avon's accomplice had apparently not only survived the ordeal but she'd even been allowed to live a life in freedom with her family. An indistinct feeling of uneasiness was rising up inside his stomach.

"Have _you_ always known about your real father?"

"Not until it was too late." Mare said, her voice steady and clear. There was no pain there, just a statement of fact.

She retrieved a shiny trinket from around her neck and showed it to Blake. It was an oval shaped silver locket on a piece of string. On the front it said in tiny, elegant letters: _Last will and testimony of Anna Grant._

"There's a holograph-chip inside for my father."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise your mother was dead."

Blake was clearly having trouble processing all this new information. As if the reunion with Avon hadn't unbalanced him enough. All sorts of questions flashed through his brain, making him feel a little light-headed. His main concern right now was how he could use this news to save Avon's life.

"She died in a raid on Residence One some years ago" said Rhi. "She was killed in an attempt to seize power from Servalan."

Blake looked from Rhi's stoïc face to the little girl, who was positively beaming with pride on seeing his expression when they sprang that little surprise.

"I heard about that raid. It was impressive and they nearly succeeded too."

"Nearly was not enough." Rhi said in a tone that dampened Blake's enthusiasm. "She left a will in which she stated that Mare is not the daughter of Chesku but was the result of a brief relationship with Kerr Avon."

"I assume this was also a surprise to Chesku. How did he react?"

"Chesku died on the same day my mother was shot."

The total lack of emotion with which Mare spoke of her father's death startled Blake. The words 'I'm sorry to hear that' didn't really make it across his lips. Apparently there was no love lost between the girl and her adopted father.

"Well, I'm honoured to be in the presence of the daughter of such brave people." Blake said with a playful little bow that made the girl giggle. "And I understand now, why you came to Gauda Prime."

When he subsequently addressed her 'sister' his voice became insistent.

"But none of this explains why _you _wagered your life to save a complete stranger."

Rhi had expected the question. She was however a bit taken aback by the chill in Blake's eyes. She hadn't seen this side of him yet. The side that would never trust anyone completely again. The side that was born after the Gauda Prime-massacre.

"I did it for my niece."

The defensive streak in her voice didn't escape Blake's attention. And there was something else he detected in those averting eyes. His instincts told him that she was hiding something. He intended to find out what that was before it turned out to be a danger to the cause.

"So, you two are really related? "

"My father was Anna's brother. You met him. Del Grant?"

That name brought back memories. Of the successes they'd had with the Liberator crew. But it also added to the confusion. If he remembered correctly it was Del Grant who had told Avon of Anna's death. And here was his daughter delivering Anna Grant's child to her rightful father. A child that was obviously born after the mother had allegedly died. Had the message of Anna's horrible fate been Del Grant's way of punishing Avon for involving his sister in the bank scheme? Or had he not know that she was alive? And how did Rhi fit into all of this?

He would have to subject this elusive mercenary to a thorough interrogation. There were too many loose ends. Blake did not question the identity of the little girl. A simple little medical test would disclose the truth about that particular part of her story. He didn't expect any surprises there. No, the fact that the two people closest to Anna Grant - her brother Del and Avon - had been convinced that she'd died under Federation torture was the thing that bothered him the most. Rhi would have a lot of explaining to do.

"My father spoke very highly of you."

The puzzled look on Blake's face hadn't escaped her attention, but she was confident that he would not probe on in the presence of the child.

"So, that's why you knew so much about Avon's part in saving Albion from the bomb."

"My father told us what happened. I have Avon to thank for that he survived."

"And you decided to return the favour."

"Our family owed it to Avon. After Albion my father was a household name among resistance-groups throughout the galaxy. He had to turn down many offers, but business prospered."

"He must have earned enough money to retire." Blake ventured, always in search for good men to join his cause. But the shadow that clouded the girls face told him that Grant hadn't been so lucky.

"He was injured a year after Albion. He's lost the use of his legs."

There was a tense little silence. Mare had taken Rhi's hand and held it firmly.

"He would have tried to get Avon himself." Rhi spoke with a slight clenching of the jaw. This time Blake fully understood why she averted her eyes. She didn't want him to see her pain. "Not only to pay his debt. He felt that Mare had a right to meet her father."

"I'm sure he will be very proud of you when he hears how you pulled this of."

"He'll be less proud when he hears that I have delivered Mare's father to his executioners."

Blake gave her a look.

"You know where I stand when it comes to Avon."

He was well aware of the fact that Rhi deliberately brought up that particular subject in front of the girl. She was practically forcing Blake to take a decision contrary to the wishes of the rebels in order to save Avon. Rhi knew very well that after being confronted with Avon's daughter in the flesh, he would not be able to harm the man, regardless of what the circumstances required of a leader of the Revolution. That's why she was here. Rhi could have left Mare with Grant, but she had brought the girl to Blake's camp as an extra insurance. A clear case of emotional blackmail. Very clever.

"I know now that we have your support, but I seriously doubt if I've done the right thing. Considering the state he is in."

"But the existence of a daughter sheds new light on the subject, don't you think?" Blake suggested with a hopeful glance at Mare. "Mare will be our trump card. Maybe if Avon learns that he is not entirely alone in the world and has a charge to take responsibility for, he might change his mind about.....leaving his earthly burdens."

_He might be a selfish bastard_, Blake thought, _but blood ties go deep and even Avon will not be able to shake off the responsibility for a vulnerable child so easily_. And if he had read the man right back then, he must have loved Anna Grant very much.

The clear voice of the little girl broke his thoughts.

"Does father want to die?"

Blake had rather hoped that his last words might be beyond the child's understanding but she proved him wrong. The fact that this six-year-old reacted so unlike a common child made him uneasy. Come to think of it, she actually reminded him of Avon. _He _used to have this uncanny ability to see right through Blake when he was not being entirely honest to his crew. His daughter had the same piercing dark eyes, that bored right into him now, demanding an answer. And by the look of it, she wouldn't tolerate a lie. Blake felt sorry for the child. A father with a death wish and a mother who had been shot in an attempt to overthrow the Federation. Not exactly ideal conditions for a good start in life.

Seeing Blake struggle for the right answer, Rhi took over. She kneeled down beside her niece and gently stroked her long blond curls.

"He is in a bad way, Mare. They...... hurt him in prison."

"Will he be alright again?"

"Of course he will." Blake heard himself say with the confidence that didn't match his gut feeling. "And you're going to help us."

Rhi and Mare remained in his hut for dinner that evening and chatted away. They had a lot of catching up to do. Mare was full of stories of doctor Beauvy and Pirol and horses of course. Her great love. She told Blake that she had actually chosen her name herself as soon as she was able to speak. Her mother had named her Marteshka, but young as she was, she refused to answer to any other name than Mare.

Blake retreated near the fireplace to give them some privacy. He stared into the fire and mulled over this revelation about his friend. A child would perhaps be the best thing that ever happened in Avon's life. It might mellow him, bring out his softer side. Make him finally open up to people. But Roj Blake couldn't for the life of him imagine Avon as a father. He tried to picture the man at the family dinner table or reading bedtime stories and playing hide and seek in the park. A futile effort. Blake only kept seeing those dark eyes, observing him amid the flickering flames. Endlessly black and empty, as if they were already dead.


	9. Chapter 9

Warning: suicide issues!

* * *

_.........in which Avon finally gets the chance to slip away._

Nine years as a doctor in the resistance had hardened Emma Beauvy to the sight of violent death, but she could never get used to the devastating feeling that came over her, when a patient's life slipped through her hands. Blake had been one of those patients. As reluctant as she was to admit it, if Kilmonis hadn't snatched him away from her and brought him to the woods, he would never have survived another night. God knows, she had tried to work miracles, but his injuries were beyond repair. Whatever was done outside her regular medical care had saved the rebel's life. Kerr Avon had shot to kill and according to her knowledge of the human body he had succeeded admirably.

When she suddenly stood eye to eye with the man who had pulled the trigger, her initial feeling was one of surprise. Avon was much smaller than she had imagined. Like most villains in legendary tales, the one in this particular story had also been endowed with extraordinary features. But he didn't look all that impressive, a thin man dressed in a smudgy white shirt and worn out pants. The fact that he had buttoned up the shirt to the collar and didn't wear his sleeves rolled up like most of the men in the camp, told Emma that he had an eye for decorum. An ingrained subconscious habit, he'd applied to his second-hand garments. It was the look in his eyes that really unsettled her. The gleaming, darks spots watching her from underneath the lashes, brought about a cold, sinking feeling deep inside her belly. She had seen eyes like that before. The empty eyes of the desperate who had nothing to lose.

Emma patiently watched how Kilmonis unlocked the handcuff on his left wrist and seated Avon on the examination table. The fact that he chained him to it, seemed to amuse the prisoner. The doctor observed a slight smile and noticed the small laughing wrinkles around his eyes and finely chisled mouth. A clear sign of the happier times he had obviously known.

"He wants him looked at." was all Kilmonis said before he retreated a few steps to stand beside the door. His right hand was resting on the stun gun in his belt, while he held his eyes fixed on the prisoner.

Emma didn't speak to her patient during the examination and Kerr Avon was blessedly silent. She treated him like she would any other new arrival. A medical examination had become routine procedure before welcoming allies in their midst. They were still too vulnerable to be able to afford an outbreak of even the simplest disease. There was a shortage of medically trained personnel in the camp, not to mention a lack of medicine and equipment. Topping the list of Dr. Beauvy's wishes was a hand-scan which could quickly detect a whole range of malfunctions without ever having to touch the patient. Until this handy little gadget arrived, she was forced to examine her patients the old fashioned way.

Avon allowed the scrutiny on his person without objecting, but she felt him tense the moment an invisible boundary was crossed when she started unbuttoning his shirt. She examined the pale white skin underneath; a striking contrast with his face, where a hint of a sun tan was already visible. Gauda Prime did that to you, however short your visit was. He broke the silence when she gently started probing his ribs.

"Would you mind not doing that? The pain is in my legs, not up here."

"Be quiet."

She ignored his icy look and continued. He couldn't hide the fact that it hurt when she touched his chest. Emma guessed that a number of ribs had been broken some months ago and had not been given the proper care to heal. She was surprised to find many more bruises and scars that couldn't be as old as the Gauda Prime massacre. It was a contradiction to the stories people told about the traitor who shot Blake. Stories about living a life of luxury under the protection of Servalan.

She felt him watching her while she jotted down some notes on her notepad. When she took a penlight and approached him to test his pupillary response, he locked eyes with her. The sudden closeness was stifling and Emma found herself unable to look away. She picked up on his musky scent, combined with the smell of grass and horses. The shiny, inky eyes that regarded her curiously unnerved her more than she was willing to admit.

"Are you the one who brought Blake back to life?"

She placed her fingers on his forehead, raised the eyelid with her thumb and shone into his left eye.

"I tried but didn't succeed."

He made a sound that she could only interpret as a chuckle.

"I would like to see your successes then."

"Blake was cured by the powers of Ga-ii." she said while concentrating on his other eye.

"Ah, a doctor who believes in potions and chants....how novel."

Annoyed, she increased the distance between them and put the flashlight next to her notepad on the table.

"No I don't believe in potions and chants but I do believe what I see. I can't explain it. You did an expert job on him. Blake should've died."

The lines in his face hardened while the brown eyes changed into black pits again. Emma Beauvy was not pleased with herself. After mere minutes in the presence of this man, she had already lost her composure. That didn't bode well for the rest of the session. When she reached out for her pen and didn't find it next to her notepad, her sub-conscience was yelling out in alarm, but it was already too late.

Avon grabbed her with one fast move and drew her into a strangling embrace. With his free arm around her throat he pulled her off her feet. In a flash she discovered the item she had been looking for in his cuffed hand and then she felt the sharp sting of the pen against the throbbing vein in her neck.

"I will kill her if you come any closer." Avon calmly warned Kilmonis who was only two steps away from them now, his stun-gun steadily aimed at Avon's head.

"Let her go."

"I will." Avon assured him. "After you've given me your gun."

"You will never get out of the camp alive." Kilmonis warned.

"Well, now that's exactly what I'm trying to achieve." Avon said wearily. "Give me your gun and I'll give you back your physician."

"So, you can kill yourself?"

"Naturally."

There was a tense pause in which Kilmonis was trying to determine what course of action to take. As a professional soldier, he knew how much damage a harmless little pen could do.

"Ive been trying to leave this sorry world for some time now, " Avon said. " I know you would rather execute me publicly, but I've never been one for crowds. Let me die here and now. Give me my dignity. The result is the same."

"I could agree to shoot you, if you let go of the doctor." Kilmonis suggested. He would worry about explaining that to Blake later. "No one would blame me if they hear what happened."

This time it was Avon's turn to regard the other man in silence. Kilmonis struck him as a man of quick and simple solutions. Avon had not failed to notice the uneasiness in his manner about Blake's way of dealing with his assassin. The soldier would probably welcome the opportunity to rid them of the dilemma that was the cause of so many contradictory emotions in their leader. But Avon could not afford to make an error of judgement now.

"I think not." he said finally.

He pressed the tip of the pen harder into the soft flesh. Emma steeled herself against the stind and felt how a small, warm bead of fluid slowly trickled down her neck.

"Give your weapon to the good doctor, please."

Kilmonis hesitated only a moment, but then he reluctantly gave up. Very slowly he handed his weapon to Emma, a mixture of anger and impotence in his expression.

"Now leave."

"And the doctor?"

"Give us half an hour" Avon said. "I still have some use for her."

Kilmonis cursed between his teeth, but he complied. He knew when it was time to retreat.

"I don't think it would be wise if you hurried over to Blake right away to tell him what's happening here." Avon said. He waited for Kilmonis to look at him. "Half an hour and your problems will be solved."

Kilmonis nodded in silent understanding before he moved to the door.

When he was gone, Avon took the gun from the doctor and released her. She sank down on her knees, catching her breath, heart thudding in her chest. When she looked up at him she found herself staring into the the barrel of the stun-gun. Behind it, Kerr Avon was apprasing her.

"I don't suppose you would shoot someone, would you?"

Avon had obviously already classified the doctor into one of his own little categories and dismissed that possibility. He told Emma to go lock the door and quickly scanned his surroundings. There was only one window in the hut, but the shutters were closed from the inside to shun the bright sun.

"Now get me a scapel." he told her when he heard the door lock.

She went over to the medical cabinet and rummaged around in one of the drawers. When she found what he'd asked for, she reluctantly returned to the shackled man and gave him the item.

"Sit" he said, gesturing to the floor.

She sank down on her knees before him and froze in horror when he put the barrel of the gun on her forehead. By now she was so confused about the actions of her patient that she wouldn't put it beyond him to shoot a lethal jolt through her skull. He handed her the scalpel and offered her his free hand; palm up.

"Now cut."

She looked up to him in utter confusion.

"You want me to slit your wrists for you?"

"Just do it!" He was pressed for time and clearly not in the mood for long explanations.

"Do it yourself!"

Emma could not easily be intimidated into doing something that went against every grain her body. She couldn't believe what he was asking her. If the man wanted to commit suicide he should bloody well do it himself!

"I can't woman!" he snarled with a desperate twist in his voice. "Now do as I say or I'll shoot."

She felt the pressure of the gun increase. His wild eyes told her that these might very well be her last minutes among the living. She straightened herself and fixated the hand on one of his knees. When she placed the blade on the side of his wrist just above a large pink scar, he halted her before she made the incision.

"Not like that. You know not to cut horizontally."

Emma gave up her attempt to deceive him. She placed the scalpel further up, on the blue vein that was easy to spot on his lean forearm. With a skilled hand she guided the sharp blade through flesh, releasing dark red fluid on pale skin. It ran over his knee, disappearing into the fabric of his black trousers. He took the weapon in his injured hand and offered her his other wrist.

Without another word she repeated the procedure and watched the blood staining the floor before her. The drops grew into a small puddle that reached her knees, where her beige trousers soaked it up.

"Where's your blood supply?"

"We have no blood supply." she told him truthfully.

"I suppose Blake has attracted enough idealists who'll volunteer their blood if needed." he said with a scornful smile.

"This is how we survive." she answered almost defensive.

"How many men will line up for me?"

No one here in the camp would ever volunteer to give blood to save the life of Blake's assassin. He smiled when he saw her realize that.

"Blake might."

"Yes, I believe he actually might try to save me, so he can have me properly executed in front of the crowd."

"Has it occured to you that he might actually care what happens to you?" said Emma irritated.

"Don't bother." Avon cleary didn't want to go there. "He's got the wrong blood type."

He briefly closed his eyes to fight of a feeling of dizziness. By now he was completely covered in blood. Beside him, a bright red stain was growing steadily on the white sheet that covered the table. He watched it dripping on the floor and noticed how it had ruined the doctor's trousers.

"I'm sorry about that."

Avon lowered himself down on the floor, shifted a bit until he found a comfortable position to sit in. He was feeling drowsy. His breathing had become deeper. He regarded the doctor, who was still in front of him on her knees, watching him on eye level now. She was older than him and had probably seen her share of bad in the world. The glimpse of helplessness he detected in her eyes caused a pang of guilt about forcing her into this.

"How many deaths have you witnessed, doctor?"

"I don't watch people die." Emma replied. "Dying, like love, is a private matter."

"Well, as Blake undoubtedly has told you, I do treasure my privacy."

He pulled her nearer and made her turn around to sit between his knees. With his free arm he held her close, her back leaning against his body. The hand with the gun rested on her lap, pointing dangerously upwards toward her chest. A precaution in case he would pass out too soon. If he did, she would probably startle him into consciousness when she tried to entangle herself from his embrace.

Avon knew very well that this way of suicide was often unsuccessful. But there were no other options open to him. The doctor would never help him. Overdosing on one of the drugs she had in store was too risky, because she might try and cheat him by injecting him with a sleeping drug instead. Her profession was one of saving lives. Aiding and abetting perfectly healthy people in their suicide attempts was not something she would do out of her own free will. And as for him taking his own life; Carnell had made sure that he would never be able to do that. Avon needed the doctor's help. And as much as he resented having someone present right now, it was the only way. At least in this position, she wouldn't be able to watch him.

Doctor Beauvy fully understood what he was doing. He'd obviously tried to end his life before and failed. By keeping close body contact, Avon could detect everything she did. Time was all it took and he was not about to let her ruin his second attempt. Reason told her to sit quietly and wait it out but she couldn't help feeling very odd. His slow breathing was almost soothing and the occasional spasm of the muscles in various parts of his body, very inappropriately reminded her of a former lover, just before sleep claimed him. In a way she felt very at peace with herself. Even the coppery scent of the blood did not lead to the usual rush of adrenaline in her system. By now, her belly was warm and moist as the life freely flowed from his body. He held her close and his head was resting on her shoulder now. It was the most intimate thing she'd ever experienced.

Just when she thought that he had finally passed out, he spoke. His voice soft and pleasant against her right ear.

"Tell me about Blake."

He sounded almost seductive, causing a flutter in her underbelly that confused her. Emma Beauvy had seen and done it all in her time, but the mixed emotions she was subject to right now, were a novelty. She was acutely aware of the slight breathing in her ear. Felt every inch of the body behind her and slowly allowed herself to fully lean back against him, relaxing the strained muscles she had used to avoid contact before.

"What do you want to know?"

He seemed uncertain at first. Maybe there were too many questions and too little time. Emma felt him shiver. Soon he would feel chilly and cold. And a little after that he would pass out. Hopefully without any sudden struggles to keep awake. That's when he would be most dangerous to her. That's when his muscles might involuntary contract and pull the trigger. She glanced down at the gun. It was set on the highest level.

"Nothing in particular." he said finally. "Just .... talk."

And Emma started talking. About how she had met Blake. About his efforts to unite the resistance groups that were scattered throughout the galaxy. About the pleasant evenings they spent together. About his near-death and miraculous recovery. She talked and talked until her voice had been reduced to an inaudible whisper and she finally was sure that the man behind her had stopped moving altogether.


	10. Chapter 10

The Bad Seed

_...in which doctor Beauvy makes a startling discovery about her new patient._

* * *

Avon was slowly regaining consciousness. The thick haze that hung inside his skull was clouding his thoughts, but he had enough presence of mind to realise that he hadn't died and gone to hell. There was a throbbing pain in his head and when he tried to open his eyes, he nearly fainted. He took a few deep breaths and swallowed away the nausea before he tried again. The world was a blur at first, but then he was able to focus and see. White sheets, hospital bunk, wires attached to his chest, bright white bandages on both his wrists. There was a needle inserted into the artery on the inside of his left arm, slowly feeding him the fluid that was bringing him back to life.

His eyes drooped and finally fell shut to fight the swirling in his head. He gave himself a few seconds to recover before he opened them again. He had to see who was at the other end of the tube that was filling his system with fresh blood. Blake must have forced one of his men to volunteer. He half expected to see a soldier in shackles beside him. When he was sure the dizziness was under control, he slowly turned his head sideways and found the needle in his skin. His eyes followed the dark tube to a lean, sinewy arm that rested on the bed next to his.

_Rhi._

The young woman had made herself comfortable on the bunk. She had passed the time reading, but Avon could tell that she had been watching him from the moment he'd woken up. The routine of her days as a guard on Cendus had almost become second nature. As if she could read his thoughts, Rhi averted her eyes and turned another page.

Avon took a deep breath and with all the strength he could muster up, he pulled out the needle from his vein. Quickly Rhi retrieved the tube that was dangling beside the bed and blocked the bloodflow so it wouldn't make another big mess in doctor Beauvy's ward.

"We're almost done, Avon." she said. "What do you hope to achieve?"

"What's going on?"

Doctor Beauvy approached the bed and prepared to reconnect the link, but her patient feebly pushed her hands away.

"Don't." Avon said, his voice a mere whisper. "You could be killing us both."

A disquieting feeling crept up Beauvy's spine. What had she missed? She had been so busy trying to save Avon's life -with an angry Blake breathing down her neck- that she hadn't taken the time to think about what he had done. The man might have had ulterior motives for slitting his wrists. She suddenly realised that the method of suicide he had chosen was rather odd, considering the circumstances. He could have forced her to finish him off in many different -and above all- faster ways.

"What do you mean?" Rhi asked, by now slightly alarmed.

"Examine my blood." Avon said and then he passed out again.

* * *

"How is he doing?"

Blake peered over doctor Beauvy's shoulder, while she downloaded the testresults to the datapad on her desk. He didn't fail to notice her trembling fingers and his hand briefly touched her shoulder in a reassuring, comforting gesture.

"How are _you_ doing?"

"I'm fine. Nothing a glass of red wine and a good night's sleep can't cure."

Blake could read her well enough by now, to know that this was an outright lie. What had occurred only hours ago in the safe environment of her medical ward had unsettled her more than she was willing to admit.

"How's your general?"

"He'll be more careful next time." Blake said with a certainty, that told her that the men had undoubtedly been having a heated discussion about the new arrival.

"Well, …" Emma said while studying the readings on her pad. "...there probably won't be a next time."

She stepped aside to allow Blake a clear view of the pad. She clicked on a picture and enlarged it.

"What am I looking at?"

"This is your friend's blood." Emma told him. "Notice the dark dots?"

"They're hard to miss."

There were dots all over the place. Emma enlarged one of them until the picture completely filled the screen. It was bullet-shaped, with two tiny tentacles at the front.

"What are they?"

Emma sighed.

"I'll have to do some more tests, but it's my expert opinion that we're looking at a nanocell of some sort. A highly modified specimen, I'd say. I have never seen anything like it."

"They've injected him with nanobots?"

"It'll take a lot more research before I can tell you what their function is. As you know the original nanocells were designed to repair the human body where the more traditional medical instruments do more damage than good."

"According to Rhi he was tortured over a long period of time. Maybe they used the bots to repair his injuries."

"That's a possibility, but the cells can just as easily be programmed to destroy. I think Avon is convinced of the latter."

"Is there any way of finding out what they do?"

"I could run some more tests, but I really don't have the right equipment. It'll mainly be guesswork. But I've discovered that their numbers are increasing. They seem to be able to duplicate. The donor blood is already contaminated."

"What about the donor?"

"I checked that. She's clean. "

Blake was obviously relieved. The girl had volunteered as soon as it was clear that she had the right blood type but Blake felt responsible if something were to happen to her. Rhi Grant was no longer just the mercinary he'd paid for delivering Avon. She was the guardian of Avon's only child.

"Do what you can to find out what these things are doing in his blood." Blake said. "And while you're at it, check every inch of his anatomy for tracers or other stuff the Feds might have implanted. I'm sure Servalan tried all resources available in order to extract information from him."

"The psychostrategics probably had a go at him as well." She remembered the frustrated anger in Avon's eyes when he'd ordered her to slit his wrists. "He wasn't able to take his own life, Blake. They must have placed some kind of block in his brain that prevents him from harming himself."

"That's the way of the Federation." Blake said bitterly. "They want full control."

"Don't forget _where_ they were hiding him all this time. Carnell is Lord and Master in the prison on Cendus. You might have just opened the door to let in the proverbial wolf in sheep's clothing."

"That's why I need you to examine him. Thoroughly. Turn him inside out if you have to."

"I will. But it will take time. There is a faster way to find out about the cells, though."

"Which is?"

"Ask Avon. I'm sure Carnell gave him a detailed explanation of what those cells are for."


End file.
